Includes Language
The Heartless
Chapter 1
The first day at the new school. The new kid. That's what I am. The freakin new kid. Outcast of everyone. This is the 3rd time I've been the new kid this year. See we are in the witness protection program. My father saw a man commit a murder, but it wasn't just any man. He was a high-ranking gang member of the Crips. And he helped put him behind bars. So now, every Crip on the face of the earth wants to kill us. Ok, well almost all of them.
So now we are in Alaska. Oh hell yea, let's go to the biggest state in the U.S. and the coldest damn place too. Also lets go to the place where we can fish. Which is why my dad chose the damn place. Anyway, lets get back to school.
I am walking to school in my VANS jeans, my All That Remains T-Shirt, an unzipped Lamb of God hoodie and my black and white Jackass chucks. Yea I am a rebel. Deal with it.
The snow was cold, soaked into my soaks. Why did Mother Nature have to go and make a freezing shit hole like Alaska? I'm atheist. Deal with it. So since I don't have any transportation, and the snow makes it impossible for busses to run, I have to walk to school. In -12 degree weather. With a zip up hoodie on, unzipped. Yeah, I'm crazy.
The school is Sycamore High School, its like, really big. Like, middle school big. But then again this is Alaska. So no one gives a damn. It's a crappy building, nasty brown looking in contrast to the bright white snow. Hope the heating works.
I can already see some people walking in through the front door. Everybody just joking around with each other, talking about stuff, you know, normal things. Oh, did I tell you I was a sophomore? I don't think I did. Yeah, the second crappiest year. Senior is the first, then sophomore, then freshman, then junior. Don't ask.
I walk on in, the floors have snow all over them, the people just standing around. Bad thing is, I don't have a locker. Good thing is, I don't care. So I wait until the first bell rings, and go to my first class. Which is Creative Writing. Yay, the only class that doesn't seem like crap. I slip in the class and talk to the teach.
Teach, is hot. Imagine a smoking hot brunette, wearing this somehow sexy tight fur jacket and a long skirt. I can already tell I like this class. Ha ha ha ha, I am a perv. Deal with it. Ha ha ha ha ha ha.
"Who are you?" the teach asked me.
"My name is Max DeCuso," I said giving my fake last name. It was really Thomas, but we got DeCuso, I think it sounds cool. Better than the last 2. McDonald and Rory.
"Oh, you're the new kid huh?" the teach asked me.
"Oh yeah, this is the 4th school I've been to this year" I tell her.
"Wow, that's a lot" teach said.
"Yeah, I guess."
"I am Ms. Wilson, welcome to Sycamore"
"Wait, you aren't married?" I asked.
Ms. Wilson laughs, "Surprise you much?"
"Yeah. I walked in here and I was like, that teacher is gorgeous, she definitely has a very lucky husband."
"Thank you for the compliment, just don't go hitting on me."
I laugh, "Don't worry, I am into girls my age."
All the while we are talking, people came pouring into the class. Joking, like, 11 people came into class. No joke, I guess creative writing is just not that popular here. But then again, it's Alaska. So no one gives a damn. Stupid Sarah Palin. Stupid Republicans and Democrats.
Ms. Wilson turned to the class saying, "this here is Max DeCuso, tell us something about yourself."
"Ok, I left my girlfriend in New York to move to Cheyenne, Wyoming, but then I moved to Louisville Kentucky and now I am in Alaska, freezing my ass off. I play guitar and I am sleepy. I'm an atheist, so deal with it. Ummmm... I love Lamb of God, All That Remains, Disturbed, Tool, and Slayer, and have seen them all in concert at least 3 times, and I am writing a novel. Oh yeah, I think Sarah Palin can go fuck herself." The class stares at me like I am crazy. Apparently, I shouldn't have said that. But I don't care. Deal with it.
Ms. Wilson shakes her head, "No language in this class young man."
I take a seat in the back of the class, "Yes Ms. Wilson."
"Ok class..." and then I switch into robot mode. The mode where I don't give a damn, but somehow end up doing all my work. I zone out, talk to a few of the guys in there, but really I am just the guy who hates Sarah Palin.
So I go to my next few classes, standard Algebra II, World Civs, Art II (which blows by the way), Lunch, Woodshop (I can't believe they let me use a saw in school), and English II. And now its free time after school. So I am gonna wait for my dad to come pick me up. I hang out around school, doing absolutely nothing, ya know, just staring at a wall, when I hear this shredding to my left.
I mean, absolute guitar shredding. Like, stuff that I do. Which, if you could hear, would be like, what the hell? But man I was digging this. So I follow the sound of it. I find the source in the music room. Its this really average looking girl, black long hair, a Tool Aenima T-shirt, and some skinny jeans. She was playing a Gibson SG on a Washburn amp. Damn, did she look sexy as hell. But then again, any girl who can play guitar is sexy. As long as they aren't fat. Chubby is okay though.
"Damn" I say softly looking at her fingers fly across the frets. She looks up at me, "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, but that was awesome. Kinda a mix between Slayer and Disturbed."
"So. Go to hell, fag" she said. Ouch, that hurt. She packed up her guitar and amp, and walked away. Now, some guys would get mad. But not me... I got horny. Yeah man, horny as hell. Like, ya know, boner. That was so punk rock. And that crap, turns me on. So add the fact that she likes Tool, who is my favorite band, she kicks ass at guitar, add the way she just ignored me, and there ya go, my perfect girl. Damn, hell yea. But this girl is heartless. I can already tell.
She is cold as ice, so lets melt that ice away shall we?
